


Flirting Under the Influence

by RockinT765



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, drunk Makoto makes bad decisions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockinT765/pseuds/RockinT765
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, drunk Makoto doesn't really keep stuff to himself. Non-drunk Makoto really wishes he had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, I use the NISA translation version of their names. Second, there is underage drinking in this. And *wink wink nudge nudge* I've never had alcohol before and have literally no idea what it's like to be drunk or what that stuff tastes like. So, use your imagination a bit there. Also, there are scene changes that are shown by the little line in between parts. The parts aren't long enough to be their own chapters, so I simply showed the time-skip with that.

Makoto Naegi was a heavy sleeper. He may not have originally been one, but years with a little sister did that to a person. It was either learn to adapt, or wake up to giggles and squealing. And, Makoto wasn’t exactly the kind of person who could function with just a few hours of shut-eye. Yes, he always woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but only after getting a minimum of nine hours, every night. That’s just how he was.

Byakuya Togami, on the other hand, was the epitome of calculation and time management. He was efficient on little sleep, and never even slept in on weekends. He worked late and got up early. So, when he went off to work, in the morning, he left the house long before what Makoto deemed morning. Byakuya had his coffee, and his drive, and he didn’t need much else to get himself out of bed.

It was almost as if they didn’t live together, in the morning. Byakuya was gone before Makoto awoke, and they wouldn’t cross paths until they came home from work, or unless they interacted during the day. So, it worked out well, for them both.

After escaping Hope’s Peak, many of the survivors found themselves with nothing to return to. Some of them had money, stored away, and many banks/ATMs were still functional, luckily. Yasuhiro may have owed money to people, but his fortune-telling had scored him some big bucks. Toko made a lot off of her books. Hina’d won money in her swimming competitions. Kyoko had mysterious funds that Makoto assumed she’d acquired legally, but didn’t know exactly how. Byakuya was a given.

Makoto, however, was an average teenager. He’d been too busy to get a job, and he’d mooched off of his parents, like a regular kid. There were no magical funds just lying around, for him to use. And, when it came down to it, he realized that he had nothing at all. Oddly enough, Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Hope, was homeless. But, with his preaching of hope and all, he hadn’t let it get to him, and intended to somehow make do.

His friends, however, were not too keen on letting him live off the land. And, surprisingly, Byakuya had stepped up, offering to room with him, until Makoto could get his own place. He may not have been the nicest guy, but he wasn’t a monster. And, honestly, he kind of owed Makoto, even if he’d never admit it.

Of course, Makoto had refused, but Byakuya brought up the point that he had more than enough money to take care of them both, and a large enough living space that he could accommodate him, with ease. Makoto, surely, would’ve put strain, financially, on most of the others. So, it was decided. He and Byakuya would be roommates, for the time being.

And, it was working out, pretty well. Makoto was careful not to overstep his bounds, and Byakuya attempted to overlook some of the annoyances of joint living spaces. Everything was totally fine. But, nothing ever stayed that way, for long, and it only took a single cringeworthy night to hijack it all.

* * *

 

Makoto frowned. “I’m not so sure,” he said as he stared at the bottles in front of him.

“Come on, it won’t hurt you, dude!” The quirky, stoner-esque Hiro sat before him, a smile lighting up his face. “It’s not like anyone really cares, right? It’s just mellow, man.”

Not convinced, Makoto made a little sound that was somewhere between a “hmm” and a “hmph.” He shook his head, in disagreement. “You do realize it’s illegal? I mean, there might not really be anyone to enforce the rules, right now, but alcohol is still alcohol.”

Hiro sighed as if to say “you party-pooper,” and replied in the kind of tone one might use with a know-it-all child, or in this case their stick in the mud friend, “I drank when I was a kid, and I turned out fine, right?” Then, he looked ponderous for a moment. “Well, I mostly just sort of snuck some, one time, and then vomited, but, it felt like the right thing to say.”

He let a laugh, and shrugged, before continuing. “Basically, the gist is that it’ll totally be fine. You trust me, right?”

Makoto’s green eyes met Hiro’s sparkling but perhaps slightly hurt eyes, and he lost his resolve. “Of course I trust you.” He sighed, before allowing a small smile. “Just a little bit, though, okay?”

Despite his worry, Hiro’s holler of excitement, in response, made it worth it. Makoto was always a sucker, for his friends, which was probably not the best habit, but kind of tied in with the whole making people happy and hopeful thing. So, Hiro handed him a bottle, and smiled at him, in anticipation.

Makoto felt slightly nervous, under Hiro’s gaze, but took a sip, anyway.

What he felt was incredibly surprising. It was strong and burned his throat, but it was smooth and refreshing, all the same. It wasn’t too bad, though it did taste awful. And, Makoto figured that if he went slow, it wouldn’t really be that bad.

* * *

 

It was that bad.

By the end of the night, he was very very very incredibly drunk. He’d allowed himself to pick up another bottle, convincing himself it was purely for thirst, and was paying, dearly, for it. Or well, he would be paying dearly for it, if he wasn’t so drunk that the world was actually extra good. Luckily, he wasn’t a “sad drunk” which Hiro had informed him was the case for some of his friends, back in the day. But, that little tidbit didn’t exactly remedy the drunk boy, currently attempting to walk home.

Hiro had slammed a bit more than Makoto had, and was stuck in, mostly, the same position, and, together, they deemed Makoto okay enough to go home by himself. That was a bad decision, in itself, but it would only get worse from there.

So, Makoto walked, drunkenly, back to his shared house. Surprisingly, he’d actually managed to find it. Sure, it took him waaaaaayyyy longer than it would’ve taken him, if he were in his right mind, but he hadn’t just wandered onto a stranger’s property, or ended up on the side of the road, so that was a plus.

The downside, however, was that he left his keys, somewhere. They were probably at Hiro’s, but he couldn’t remember whether or not he’d been holding them when he left. If so, he could’ve dropped them at any point. But, drunk Makoto didn’t really care about where his keys were off to.

Well, he cared a little. “Keeeeys! Keeeeys! Where are you~?” he singsonged, stumbling as he attempted to look around. For some reason, the keys didn’t respond to his calls, so he figured that maybe they were sleeping. “Dun worry. I’ll be really quiet. Sweet dreams.”

Makoto backed away, as best as he could, and headed up the walkway. He knocked something over, as he did, offering a loud “shhhhhhh” to whatever had fallen. He didn’t check to see what it was, and instead focused all his energy into climbing up the stairs.

There were only three, wait no six, wait no a million steps to the door. No, wait, it was probably three. But, Makoto thought it would take too long to climb them all, one at a time, so he opted to try to jump them. He backed up, and ran as fast as he could, and jumped at the perfect time. Although, not actually the perfect time, because he fell down, hard, after his foot collided on one of the edges of the stairs.

Makoto supposed it hurt. But, he’d made it to the top, so he was mostly just proud. Still though, his hand was bleeding, a bit, so his stared at it for a second. However, his healing powers never seemed to kick in, and he dropped his tired arm, instead. Maybe healing powers only worked indoors. He thought he’d read that somewhere. (He hadn’t.)

The issue was then that he still had no keys. And, he had no idea what time it was, so he had no idea whether or not Byakuya was asleep, or even home. Makoto looked at the sky, and it was dark, but all the minute hands in the sky were confusing and kind of looked like animals and stuff, so he decided he’d just have to knock on the door and hope for the best.

After having a weirdly hard time making a fist, Makoto brought his hand to the door and pounded it a few times. He almost shushed it, but realized that if he shushed it, the sound might go away, and then Byakuya wouldn’t hear him. He would’ve apologized to the keys, but he’d already forgotten about them.

He really just wanted to get inside. It was cold, outside. His body felt sort of warm and tingly, but he had the chills, so even in his drunken state, he registered that as meaning he was cold. Mildly upset, Makoto knocked again on the door.

When nobody came to the door, he thought up a brilliant idea. He was going to throw a rock at the window and he’d either get a free way into the house, or he’d make enough sound to summon Byakuya. It was a win-win idea. Buuuut, he realized, sadly, they didn’t have any rocks. The pathway was smooth, and stones weren’t Byakuya’s thing.

He, of course, didn’t really remember that. He just saw that there were no rocks to throw. So, he decided that maybe if he yelled, pretty loud, his voice would be as strong as a rock, and he could get in that way. Yeah, yeah, that was a better idea.

Makoto brought his hands to his face, and cupped them around his mouth. “Hey! Byakuya! The door ish c-closed and I can’t open it! Ish very mean!” He paused for a moment. “I’m cold, Byakuya!”

He thought he heard sounds, but he wasn’t certain, so he shouted again. “Byaku-”

“What, you idiot!” Byakuya swung open the door, glaring daggers at him.

Makoto jumped for joy, or well, attempted to. He almost fell, but caught himself. The failed stunt, however, did not faze him, and he remained excited. “You’re home! I thought- I thought I was gonna die!” Makoto then suddenly looked scared for a moment. “What if there was a wolf? Wait, do they know karate? I’m not very good at karate!”

Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes, but then dissipated. Byakuya looked on in horror, then took a breath. “Makoto, I’m going to ask you a question. Try to focus as much as you can,” he said, softly (but in that way that means people are super extra mad), “Are you drunk?”

Makoto thought for a second. “Uhh, maybe?” He stumbled again. “Yesh. Probobably.”

Byakuya grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Slamming the door, he pointed, angrily, to the chairs, at the table. Makoto hiccuped and made his way over to the sitting-things. He plopped himself down, and smiled at Byakuya.

“It’s warmer, here. Thank you for saving meee~!” He giggled, teetering almost out of his seat.

Byakuya sat down, near him, and began to assess the situation, albeit not very calmly. “Did you just _walk_ all the way here?” Makoto nodded. “Where were you?” Makoto nodded again, but realized that didn’t answer the question.

“Um, I was with, that uh.. the, like…” He gestured above his head. “Poofy one? With the name with the ‘h’ in it.”

The non-drunk person beside Makoto rubbed where his glasses fell. “Asahina?”

Makoto shook his head no, and clarified. “No, th-this person has a di-”

Byakuya’s eyes widened and he put out his hands to stop Makoto. “Yasuhiro, then?”

The other boy beamed, with stars in his eyes. “You read my mind!”

“Yes, sure,” he sighed, “Why were you drinking?” He stared, intensely at Makoto.

“‘Cause he said it’d be fun?” He blinked, slowly, and then smiled, again. “It was.”

Byakuya was nearly out of patience. “Oh, _was_ it now? How _great_ ,” he said with sarcasm, “You do realize that’s illegal? Not to mention stupid.” He looked him up and down, quickly. “You look like a wreck. Clearly, you fell, no doubt breaking something, because I can tell your hand is bleeding. And, you probably lost your keys, otherwise you wouldn’t have insisted on shouting in the middle of the night.”

Makoto mmmm’d in agreement. “That wush a lot of words,” he paused, “What time is it?”

Byakuya rolled his eyes, something he rarely did, but couldn’t fight. “It’s 10 o’clock. You’re not even fit to look after yourself,” he looked down at Makoto’s hand, “Can you handle your wound?”

Makoto mouthed the word wound, seemingly not comprehending it.

“Ugh,” Byakuya started, “You can’t, I suppose. Do you need me to do anything for it, since you’ve already so rudely disturbed me?”

“Nah. Ish fiiiiiine,” Makoto said, casually.

Byakuya, however was not convinced, and he reached over and squeezed Makoto’s bad hand, to gauge his reaction and determine how badly he was hurt. When he yelped and pulled his hand away, Byakuya decided that, if anything, he’d have to apply a cream or put on a bandage or something. He was not happy, in the least.

“If you can walk, follow me upstairs. If you can’t, wait down here, and don’t move,” Byakuya said, his voice commanding and authoritative, in an attempt to get through to the drunken idiot at his kitchen table.

Makoto may have attempted to get up, but he only really registered the words “don’t move” and decided that he should follow the rules. He had been swinging his feet, so he stopped them, and glued his hands to his lap. He wouldn’t budge, an inch. Well, his chest was still moving, but Makoto wasn’t very good at holding his breath, and he lost that train of thought, quickly enough.

Instead, he looked at the tiling and wallpaper of the kitchen. It was pretty. It was dark outside, but it was light inside, and this fascinated him. It was probably because of the bulbs. Haha, bulbs. Bulbs is a funny word. Or, it was to Makoto, at that moment. So funny even, that he began to snicker. A quiet laughter that came out more like hissing began to escape him.

He sounded like a balloon letting out air, and he remembered that he liked balloons. That thought calmed him, and his laughter died down as he thought about them. He pictured green balloons, because that was his favorite color. But, then he pictured other colors, too, because he was afraid the other colors would be jealous. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings.

Makoto wanted to kick his legs again. Byakuya was taking a long time. Likely not, but it felt like a super mega long time. He was about to call for Byakuya, when the heir himself returned to the kitchen.

“You’re going to stay still. If you squirm, I will leave and let you keep bleeding. Got it?” Byakuya said, tiredly, but still intimidatingly, hopefully.

Makoto nodded, as Byakuya knelt onto one knee, and let him take his hand. He set to work on cleaning it, first, and Makoto decided that now would be a good time to chit-chat. “Byakuya?”

Byakuya didn’t look up at him and instead replied with, “Did I tell you you could speak?”

Makoto ignored him and continued on. “Can I touch your hair?”

At that, Byakuya did look up at him, for a second, but then looked back down. “No, you may not.”

“Aw,” he frowned, “It just looks really soft.” Makoto paused. “Do you brush it?”

By this point, Byakuya could care less. He could snap at him and shut him up, but he really just didn’t feel like it. “Yes, Makoto.”

“Oh my god. I brush my hair too! We’re, like, practically the same!” Makoto squealed, in delight.

Despite still not having the energy to yell at him, Byakuya was having trouble tolerating him, by this point, and as he opened the tube of Neosporin, he was seriously considering it a lost cause. He looked Makoto, in the eyes, and said, coldly, “No, we are not the same, nor will we ever be. We are on two completely different levels.” He had attempted to silence him, but Makoto seemed unfazed.

“Oh, okay.” He almost seemed like he’d stop talking for a moment. Then, he didn’t. “Hey, Byakuya.”

Looking up at him, again, Byakuya threatened to kill him, with his eyes. “ _What_ , Makoto.”

“I was jus’ curious about something,” he said, playfully, “Did you know you’re hot?”

Byakuya reeled, slightly, eyes widening for the second time that night. “Hot?”

Makoto tilted his head to the side. “You know, like really good looking. ‘Cause you are. Really good looking I mean.”

Byakuya, unsure how to respond, simply stared at him, processing the statement. So, at that moment, Makoto, sensing an opportunity, leaned forward and kissed Byakuya.

For a second, neither moved. Until one of them did. Byakuya pulled away, choosing to look instead at the wall, and focused on finishing dealing with Makoto’s hand as quickly as he could. Makoto couldn’t tell what Byakuya was thinking, but he looked tense. Makoto, himself, was suddenly feeling very tired. That sudden movement on his part had taken the energy out of him.

As Makoto heard Byakuya getting up, he closed his eyes and fell forward. He thought he felt Byakuya catch him, before he fell asleep, the night’s events finally hitting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah. Drunk Makoto is best Makoto. Also, sorry I kinda jumped around on the whole slurring thing. I didn't really wanna mess with his speech too much, so he's kind of messing up, but he's mostly catching himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to make the rest of the story funny, but I can't guarantee the same level of humor that comes out of drunk Makoto. This chapter is a bit thought-ish, and shorter, but it's just an in-between chapter to the more important stuff.

When Makoto woke up the next morning, he felt awful. His head hurt, his stomach ached, he felt hot and cold at the same time. Why did he feel so…?

Then, it hit him, which was painful after just waking up. He’d been drinking, the night before. Hiro had convinced him. Ugh, why was he so easily manipulated? Makoto, silently, praised the fact that he was _only_ hungover and that, hopefully, it would go away soon enough. Makoto hated being sick, and even a horrible day would be better than the kinds of colds and viruses he, usually, got.

Water was supposed to help hangovers, though, right? He had no real experience with hangovers, but that’s what movies had told him. Water and… advil maybe? Yeah, that’d probably work. It could make it worse, but it could also make it better.

So, Makoto stretched, and got out of bed. God, was it hard. His body, simply, did not want to cooperate. But, he persevered, and, slowly, made his way over to the kitchen. However, it was too bright in there, even for morning, and he was blinded. Covering his eyes with one arm and throwing out his other arm, like a zombie. Feeling for his surroundings, he made his way over to the counter.

He, gently, removed his arm from his eyes, and allowed them to adjust to the surroundings. “Oh,” he realized, “Someone must have left the light on.” Makoto chose to deal with that, in a second, and instead moved over to the sink to get some water. He didn’t mind tap, mostly because he was used to it, and didn’t think twice about filling a glass with what came out of the sink.

When the glass was full, he took a hearty swig, relishing in the cold. It didn’t really fix anything, but it did wake him up a little. Makoto decided he’d probably have to take meds to get rid of the pounding in his head, and the aching of his body.

But, as he turned to walk over to the bathroom, he noticed a note on the counter. _“Don’t bother coming into work, today. I told them you weren’t feeling well. Don’t thank me. I just didn’t want to listen to you complain all day. - Byakuya”_

A million thoughts ran through Makoto’s head at once. “Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about work!” That was one of them. But, he also wondered why Byakuya felt the need to sign it with his name. Who else would’ve written it? However, the main thing he was thinking about was Byakuya.

He sensed that something had happened, something bad, while he was drunk. Had he said something rude? Was it just being drunk, at all? Makoto was still sorting through ideas when his memories decided to slam dunk their way into his head. With a sudden gasp, Makoto remembered everything.

“I kissed him,” he said, aloud, yet softly, almost as if he were afraid of the words. “I flirted with him, and then I just kissed him! Just… without even thinking about it! It just… happened!” Makoto’s eyes widened. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god.”

He’d _kissed_ him. He kissed _Byakuya Togami_.

What was he going to do, now? He was _friends_ with him. He _worked_ with him. He lived with the guy! He couldn’t just ignore him, and he couldn’t just hide. What would that do, anyway? Byakuya would never forget something like that. He probably hated him. Makoto was dead. He might as well say goodbye to his friends and loved ones because his best bet was to just float away. _Sayonara, world. I effed up._

Makoto had absolutely no freaking idea what to do. What could he even do? Could he just chalk it all up to being drunk? Byakuya would never believe him! And, was it even just him being drunk? If on top of it all, he was into Byakuya, he might as well just move to another country, change his name, and start calling himself the Ultimate Loser.

He needed to talk to someone. He would just explode with worry if he continued this way. Within a minute of remembering what he’d done, he’d already gotten _this_ embarrassed. Imagine what would happen to him, if he just continued to think about it.

“Kyoko,” he said, realization in his eyes, “I need to talk to Kyoko. Sh-She’ll know what to do.”

Makoto walked over to his phone, so in fear that his only thought was on calling Kyoko. He took a moment to conjure up her contact, and pressed it. “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. C- Hey, Kyoko! Could we maybe get lunch, together, today? ... Oh, well, yes, I am sick. … No, I’m not- I just really need to talk to you about, something, okay? … Mhm … Uh, at that café? … Yeah, see you then. Bye!”

Makoto backed up until he hit a wall, and slid down it. Hugging his knees to his chest, and dropping the phone by his side, he sighed. He’d gotten a glance at the time, before they hung up, and he realized, with panic, that it would be four hours until he would meet with Kyoko. Four hours of pacing around the house, and *attempting* to clean or cook or do productive things.

He could sleep the time away, but he was too on edge to do that. If he’d had a hobby or talent, he could do that, but he didn’t. Hope and luck weren’t talents that could occupy his time. And, video games were out because Byakuya couldn’t stand the background music (and headphones never sat comfortably over all of Makoto’s floof). The only thing he really had was TV. However, he’d been so busy with work and everything else that was going on that he had hardly used it, at all.

One could only assume that Byakuya probably hadn’t recorded anything, and if he had, they were probably documentaries and boring stuff.

Ugh. Everything always came back to Byakuya. He, simply, couldn’t be avoided. Even if he wasn’t thinking about the drunken encounter, everyday thoughts still flitted in. Makoto supposed that living with someone meant that more of their stuff stuck to you. For instance, you might learn that they like their ramen a certain way, and then whenever you see ramen, you may think of how they make it. But, if you barely knew someone, they would have no connections to your life, and unless they were, specifically, brought up, you might never think of them at all.

But, even with the justifications, the fact that these things always triggered thoughts about… that just annoyed him. His own mind was not safe. Maybe it would be best if he actually checked out what was on TV instead of just thinking oddly intensely about how those around you affect you. Hungover Makoto had deep thoughts. Who knew?

So, he hopped onto the couch, and proceeded to fumble around for the remote. And, no he totally wasn’t sitting on it. Like, not even a little. Well, he was, but a narrator’s gotta look out for a homie. Anyway, when he, eventually, found himself with a remote, he clicked on the TV. Some game show flashed onto the screen, and he saw people jumping, excitedly, so he could only assume that they’d either gotten a question right, or they’d won.

He couldn’t really hear it, though, so he turned up the volume to figure out what was going on. Makoto blinked in surprise when he pressed the volume up button, as it was on ten. Who kept TV’s that low? Twenty was a decent volume, thirty was a bit loud, and twenty-five was generally the sweet spot. At least, that’s how his television had worked, when he was a kid.

He figured it was, probably, mostly the same. So, he wasn’t very surprised when it was. Twenty-five was, as always, just in the perfect range. And, he’d been quick enough to hear the host tell the couple, currently jumping for joy, that they’d won fifty thousand dollars.

They seemed excited, so Makoto didn’t have the heart to tell them (and couldn’t tell them, because they’re on the TV, on a pre-recorded show) that that money would be gone in a flash. Rent/mortgage, maybe a car, some nights out at a fancy restaurant, and soon enough, it would disappear. However, Makoto was hopeful that they’d put it into a savings account, or buy stocks with some of it, or, simply, use it for groceries and bills and utilities, for as long as it lasted.

Material things didn’t really matter in the end. For some people, being homeless and penniless would drive them to despair. He hadn’t really minded, since he had friends, a sister he knew where to find, and the hope that his parents were safe somewhere.

Still, Makoto was happy for the couple. They looked young; they were probably older than he was, but not by much. Sometimes Makoto wished he had someone to call his, to vent to, and cuddle with. But, Makoto was busy saving the world. In fact, the most action he’d gotten in almost his whole life was, well, kissing Byakuya. Even that was a bit hazy, and he couldn’t exactly say that it even meant anything. Basically, his love life was practically nonexistent.

Makoto sighed. He was thinking too much. The people on the TV had already moved on. They thanked the host, and the credits began to roll. It’d only been minutes, and he was already so bored and disconnected from the world.

Makoto was a people-person. He liked to talk to people, and have them talk back. He liked to hear stories, and tell them. He enjoyed the back and forth. But, what he loved most was seeing how happy people were to share, to learn things about them that they thought he’d care to know. He loved making people smile, and when he couldn’t, it always made him feel a little defeated. So, to make up for it, he’d just try harder the next day.

Most of his, current, friends had been hard to get used to, but worth it in the end. Toko’s inferiority complex, and tendency to shut people out or assume that they hated her, made it difficult to get close to her. Genocide Jack was even harder, though she was, usually, a pretty good sport, and kind of funny, if you liked dirty jokes. Kyoko had shut him out, originally, and there were tons of things he didn’t know about her. But, he turned to her, first, when he was worried, right? So, that meant something, right?

Hina and Hiro were the most teenger-like of the gang, even if Hiro was much older than that, and it was easy to talk to them and hang out with them. Though, maybe he’d have to set some boundaries with Hiro, in the future. Heheh....

Byakuya, however, was different. Makoto wasn’t sure that he’d even warmed up to him, at all. Makoto was _living_ with him, and he _still_ got the cold shoulder. Byakuya, occasionally, praised him or teamed up with him, sure, but they never really just talked. Sometimes they did, and it really wasn’t that bad, when Byakuya let his guard down enough to not feel the need to, constantly, show his superiority.

But, it never really stuck. They’d have a really great day or moment, and the next time they saw each other, Byakuya would insult him, again, and act like they weren’t friends, at all. It was weird, really. Usually, he always hated someone, or he always tolerated someone. There were people he seemed to get along with (assorted co-workers, and Kyoko, when they weren’t at each other’s throats), and people who couldn’t stand (Toko for one).

Makoto fell in the middle. He didn’t know what that could mean.

Byakuya was mysterious. Kyoko was, too, however he could at least, generally, tell how she was feeling. She was serious and professional, yet still showed emotion. Sure, it was often masked by her certain coolness, but she'd opened up to him more, recently. Byakuya, not so much. He’d demonstrated anger, surprise, and mild appreciation, and not much else.

The problem was, if they had been good friends, maybe Makoto could’ve laughed the whole thing off. Or, maybe they could see where it took them. But, Byakuya was a different story. Yeah, he was good-looking, yeah. Makoto’d said as much, last night. (Oh boy.) And, Byakuya had his qualities. Still- wait a second! What was he doing? Wasn’t he trying to not think about Byakuya? Yet, here he was, obviously thinking about him! Maybe even more so than usual! Extra extra read all about it amounts of thought.

God. How much time had passed? Makoto, fearfully, checked his phone. Thirty minutes. He’d been taking a nice dive in his thoughts for half an hour. While a terrible way to pass the time, it did take out a chunk, at least.

Still, watching TV clearly was not working. He just couldn’t pay attention to it. He got too distracted. Luckily, however, the deep thought processes had made him a mixture of bored and tired, which was the perfect combo for napping. Letting out a yawn at the perfect moment, Makoto turned off the television, grabbed his phone (and also set an alarm for a bit before he was to meet with Kyoko), and headed for his bed. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to make it through the whole three or so hours left, but hoped, desperately that he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, it's funny that I had him say "sayonara" at one point, seeing how he's speaking Japanese.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated, in a bit. But, I hope this makes up for it?

When Makoto woke to the incessant chiming of his phone’s alarm, he realized, happily, that he’d slept just as long as he’d wanted to. It was 11:15 AM, forty-five minutes before his ~~therapy session~~ lunch-thing with Kyoko. He’d slept, roughly, three hours, and still felt like he could sleep more.

Yawning, and stretching his aching body, Makoto, groggily, decided then that it was best to never get drunk again. There were just no upsides to being drunk, what with the drunken antics and the hangovers. He got to kiss someone, but that someone was _Byakuya_.

The only good thing to come out of it all was the fact that he didn’t have to come back into work. But, even that had fallen through, when he’d tried to, actually, make use of his free time. He wasn’t particularly artistically-inclined, nor was he anything near a brainiac, so puzzles and crosswords often just stumbled him, and made him feel like a little kid. In fact, he really only had his winning personality, which was barebones, at most.

“Wow, I’m really boring when I’m not drunk,” he realized.

This epiphany was just so sad that it was hilarious, and Makoto couldn’t contain his mirth. He couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, and it was just what he needed to get back to being himself. He was the normal kid, the non-special one who was somehow special in their own way. But, he was also the happy kid. And, if he let go of his hope, his joy, he’d lose the thing that had gotten him out of the killing games, and gotten him his array of friends.

So, yes, Makoto Naegi, was _far_ more interesting when he was drunk. It was hazy, at best, but he felt like he had been really hilarious. And, he was really pretty childish when his filter was taken away. In fact, maybe, just maybe, he could learn a thing or two from that him. But, not the kissing roommates part. Or, the disoriented part.

_Actually_ , maybe he should just stick with what worked. He’d gotten this far, right? Drinking would have to go on hold, at least until he was legal and capable of limiting himself. Of course, it hadn’t helped that Hiro was probably the least responsible adult he knew. He hadn’t, exactly, taken any precautions. If anything, Makoto could blame everything on Hiro. But, he couldn’t do that. He was too sweet of a kid to hold grudges, and he was too honest to ignore the fact that he’d ignored his better judgement.

However, none of that mattered at this particular second.

There were more… _pressing_ issues, at hand. For instance, Kyoko was probably already on her way out of the office, and he didn’t want to be late, not when he’d, specifically, asked her to meet him. So, he hopped out of bed, pausing to yelp in pain when his brain felt like the ball bouncing around in a pinball machine, and threw on his signature outfit.

His clothes were easy to find. Mostly, because they were sitting in a ball, in a chair, by his bed. Makoto, um, was not always the most organized kid, especially compared to the other person living with him. Byakuya always had pressed suits, and nicely brushed hair, and just he looked good, all the time. Makoto thought so anyway.

Makoto was a mess, but a lovable mess. Hopefully.

Either way, he was dressed, and therefore he was ready. Now, regularly, after waking up, he’d eat something. But, this was a not a regular situation. For one, it wasn’t morning and he’d only woken up from a nap, so breakfast wouldn’t be very appropriate. And, not only that, but he was, literally, thirty or so minutes from going to a place where he could get food. Good food even. He had come up with a place, on the spot, but he was happy he chose the place he chose. Cafés were cozy, and fancy, at the same time.

He was pretty hungry, actually. More so than he thought he was. In fact, he was really really really hungry. Was that a hungover thing? Or just a not eating for many hours thing?

Regardless, he knew he needed to leave, so he walked over to his nightstand to grab his keys. Keys which… were not there, because he’d left them at Hiro’s.

Makoto sighed ( _heavily_ ), and realized, sadly, that he’d have to swing by Hiro’s place. For the time being, he’d have to just leave the house unlocked, since he couldn’t exactly lock it from the outside, at least without his key, and prayed that he wouldn’t be robbed on top of everything else.

So, he made sure he had his phone, and his wallet, and began walking to the bus stop. He could walk to most places, but the café, he knew, was just a bit too far. Luckily, however, the buses in his area were pretty reliable, and speedy, probably because he lived in a good neighborhood. The kind that was just close enough to the city to be popular, and also small enough that it was quiet.

The bus arrived, swiftly, as he’d memorized the schedule at some point, and had known that he’d timed it pretty perfectly, if he did say so himself. Offering the fare, and hopping aboard, Makoto took an empty seat, near the front.

Nobody sat next to him, and within moments, the bus was moving, and Makoto opted to look out the window.

He thought about the night before, the work he must’ve missed, the food he would order, how his little sister was doing, and about a million other little things. He thought about how he still hadn’t heard Byakuya play piano, how he wished he could talk with Kyoko about what happened to her hands, and how he really hoped that Toko would be able to become a full member of Future Foundation.

He thought about all those things. But, he thought the most about just one thing; how Byakuya was feeling. Was he worrying, too? Trying to figure out what to say? Or, had he pushed the thought straight out of his mind?

Makoto wasn’t sure, and he was a bit worried, honestly. He was a bit of an asshole, but he was still a friend, and Makoto never intended to make a friend feel uncomfortable or nervous. Knowing Byakuya, he probably just chalked it all up to drunken behavior, and would never say a thing about it, at all. Unless of course, Makoto was just being overly hopeful, and Byakuya was actually insanely pissed at him and intended to give him a piece of his mind when they saw each other, next.

Makoto gulped, in fear of Byakuya’s (possible) incoming wrath, and was incredibly glad when the bus stopped, less than a block away from the café. Grabbing his things, he made his way off the bus, stopping briefly to say “thank you” and “goodbye” to the driver.

He could, easily, walk from where he was, and, quickly enough, saw the familiar umbrellas over the tables of his destination. And, once he was closer, he could also make out a purple-haired girl he guessed was Kyoko. To test his theory, he waved, and when the girl offered a small wave, in reply, he decided that he was correct. Kyoko would be proud of him for using deductive thinking skills... or something.

By the time he was at the table, there was no doubt that the person before him was his good friend who just happened to also be the key to fixing the disaster he’d created, or at least someone who would maybe offer a comforting pat to the boy who’d kissed a certain heir.

“Hey, Kyoko!” Makoto said, happily, as he walked over to Kyoko, arms open, opting for a hug as his optimal greeting.

She lightly squeezed back, albeit slightly awkwardly–Kyoko didn’t do hugs, and Makoto was the only exception. She waited for him to sit down before responding.

“We both know you’re not sick, or at least don’t have any kind of virus. You’re a terrible liar, Makoto. You wouldn’t have called me here if you were, and you certainly wouldn’t have risked hugging me. You’re too kind for that,” she offered a small smile, “So, what did you want to tell me?”

Makoto let out a relieved sigh, happy that Kyoko had picked up on how important this was, over the phone, and glad that she’d seen through his little lie. “You’re right. I’m not really sick, but at the same time, I’m not at my healthiest either,” he began, “I, well… I-”

Kyoko interrupted him, sensing his nervousness, “I’m guessing you’re trying to tell me that you’re hungover, right?”

For a moment, he was surprised, but then he remembered that he was dealing with the Ultimate Detective, and smiled. “Yeah.”

Kyoko nodded. “I don’t like to have any preconceptions, but I couldn’t ignore the signs. You seem tired and flushed and…” she paused, smiling playfully, “Byakuya told me.”

Okay, now that one really surprised Makoto. “He what?”

Kyoko began to clarify, “Honestly, I didn’t believe that you were _just_ sick. You always call the office, yourself, and when I was informed by Byakuya, instead, I assumed that either you were incredibly sick, or that something else happened,” she continued, “So, I pressed Byakuya, and I found out that you were hungover.”

“And, he just… told you?” Makoto questioned. Byakuya didn’t seem like to type to divulge information, like that. He was a bit worried what else he might have told her. However, it wasn’t like he hadn’t planned to tell her, himself, but he feared what Byakuya’s perspective on the whole thing was.

Kyoko closed her eyes, tilting her head down, slightly, and smiled. “Ah, you’ve caught me,” she opened them again, and met Makoto’s own eyes, “He refused to tell me, said that he was busy and wasn’t required to keep tabs on you. I, then, using my status as the leader of Division 14, requested that he tell me why you weren’t coming into work. However, I assure you that I, simply, was worried about you. I didn’t have him tell me anything else.”

At that, Makoto laughed. He’d never really thought of it that way. Sure, Kyoko was his boss, but he’d never even really considered the fact that she was _Byakuya’s_ boss, too.

“Kyoko, you don’t need to worry about me,” he smiled, “But I’m happy you do.” Makoto sighed, and then continued. “But, he didn’t say anything else to you?” Makoto asked, fearful.

Kyoko shook her head, no. “ _He_ didn’t. But, _you_ , on the other hand, still haven’t told me what’s wrong,” she stared, intensely, at him, “Does it have to do with Byakuya, then?”

Makoto balled his hands up into little nervous fists, and took a deep breath. “I kissed him.”

At that, Kyoko only smiled, though he did see the slightest surprise in her eyes. “Was this last night?” Makoto nodded in reply. “Were you drunk, at that point?”

Deciding he needed to actually speak this time, he answered, “Yes, and that’s what I need to talk to you about,” he paused, “W-What does it mean?”

Kyoko tilted her head, slightly. “Hmm?”

“I mean, what does it mean? Me kissing him. And, what do I do about it? How can I fix this?” he asked, desperately hoping that Kyoko had all the answers.

Kyoko looked up, pensive. “Well, I have a hunch, regarding what it could mean. But, I want to be certain of a few things, before I come to a conclusion,” she looked over at him, “To clarify some things, I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Makoto gulped. “Sure,” he said, smiling warmly, “And, uh, thanks. For coming, and… everything else.”

Kyoko smiled at him, in return, “Makoto, that’s what friends are for. You showed me that,” she continued, “So, as my friend, and someone I believe I can trust, I'd like to share something with you. I have something that I think is vital to your understanding of the whole situation.”

“Okay...” Makoto said, curious and nervous at the same time.

Kyoko began with, “Before we can figure out the root of your little escapade, you should be aware of Byakuya’s… feelings for you.”

Makoto’s eyes widened, and he thought that he maybe even gasped, but he couldn’t be certain. “His feelings?”

She nodded. “Byakuya has a crush on you, to put it simply. I’d even go so far as to say that he’s in love with you. And, I’m not without evidence. You see…”

* * *

 

Kyoko Kirigiri was an excellent detective. Being able to read people, to solve mysteries, was part of who she was. When she met new people, she always tried to become aware of what they did, what they said, how they worked, how they moved. She made note of all these things, even if she never intended to use them, even if she knew she’d never meet them again.

Often, she’d know little things about people that they didn’t even know about themselves. For instance, if the corner of their mouth twitched when they lied, or if they swayed when they were nervous, or if they breathed deeper when they were angry. Some of these things anyone could pick up on. But some things, were most easily seen by detectives who lived off of the tiny details of cases, the little insignificant facts that somehow completely changed everything.

Because Kyoko knew how important it was to get in people’s heads, she was particularly careful to study those around her, during the killing games. She’d known how everyone functioned, and could tell when they did something out of character. And, more importantly, she’d known how Byakuya functioned.

During Junko’s game, she’d been paying attention to who might have what motive, who might kill someone what way, who might act impulsively and anything that pointed to who may have committed each crime. And, after they escaped, she set her sights on determining how people interacted with one another, and how they lived, in an effort to get to know them, more than to simply weed out traitors.

So, she most definitely noticed when Byakuya acted differently around Makoto. He looked at him, peering over at him, every so often, checking on him. They were sharp gazes, and she knew that if Byakuya spotted something that was after Makoto, he would be on top of it in an instant. He was alert. He wasn’t gazing at him lovingly. He was protecting him. But, that was unusual, as well.

Kyoko was curious, and so she paid more attention to his interactions with Makoto, to what Byakuya did during his free time.

Back during the games, when something was wrong, when he felt there was danger, his priority was Makoto. When Makoto bolted toward danger, Byakuya called for him and followed. When Makoto was going to be executed, Byakuya covered his face, quiet and almost sad. And, when it turned out that he had survived, he was the first to demand what happened. When he needed to investigate, he called, always, upon Makoto.

And, even after, Byakuya was different, around him. Byakuya was ruder, his insults deeper. With others, his insults were surface level, comments on appearance, on intellect, or skill. With Makoto, he swore up and down that they were different, that Makoto was normal and boring and average, that Makoto sickened him. He made no such effort with the others. This, Kyoko was certain, was an effort to push him away.

More so than just that, Byakuya listened when Makoto spoke. Byakuya cared about his words, sometimes more than he seemed to care about his own.

Kyoko knew that Byakuya was in love with Makoto. She had no doubts. And once she reached that point, she felt compelled to confirm it.

So, she got his “testimony.”

“Byakuya,” Kyoko said to the only other person in the room.

Future Foundation had found them, easily, since their captivity was broadcasted to the entire world. And, they were kept in their facilities, being checked and questioned, for a couple weeks, she assumed. But, they were still teenagers, and none of the officials thought that they were corrupted by despair, so they were allowed to roam. They had rooms to sleep in, and it was almost like their dorms, the dorms they were required to sleep in for all those days.

And, she’d easily tracked down Byakuya, during some of their free time. He was in the Future Foundation library, the little inner facility where they kept files and other information. He’d always been drawn to the library at Hope’s Peak, and she’d, correctly, guessed that it would be no different, here.

“Byakuya,” she said again, “I’d like to speak with you about something.”

And, this time, he turned. “What? I’ve answered the same questions from these incompetent buffoons, over and over, and I, simply, no longer care to waste my air on those below me. So, I suggest you talk to someone else about whatever it is you feel like analyzing.”

Byakuya looked up from his book, something on the tragedy, cold eyes daring her to challenge him. And, Kyoko, never having been easily intimidated, ignored the insults he spewed.

“I wanted to talk to you about Makoto,” she said, unfazed, her own eyes holding a fire that melted his icy glare.

For a moment, Byakuya froze, and his breath hitched. But then, just as quickly, he composed himself, and cleared his throat. “What about Makoto?”

Kyoko smiled, feigning innocence. “I was just curious as to how long you’ve been in love with him.”

And at that, Byakuya dropped his book. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, bending over to grab what he’d so carelessly let go of, “That idiot means nothing to me.”

“I see,” Kyoko said, thoughtfully, “then I must’ve been mistaken. I apologize.”

Then, Kyoko began to walk away, leaving Byakuya to think over what she’d said. But, right before she left the room, she said one last thing. “Did you know that Makoto’s into guys?” she smirked, “ _I just thought you should know._ ”

That little fact had worked its way into her head through of game of Makoto’s, where they were to share things about themselves, in an effort to get closer. And, planting that fact into Byakuya’s own head was a great way to get the last piece of evidence she needed.

In fact, her encounter with Byakuya had only proven her suspicions. And, after that, Byakuya was careful to avoid her. But, when it came time to figure out where Makoto would live, Kyoko had leaned into him and whispered, quietly, “You live alone, don’t you?”

Byakuya offered that Makoto live with him the very next day.

* * *

 

“...I’d had my suspicions, and I ended up speaking to Byakuya about it. I won’t tell you everything, but just believe me when I say that his feelings aren’t just platonic.”

Makoto stared at her. Then, he stared at her some more. And, he kept staring, just waiting for a “gotcha” from the serious girl before him. But, Kyoko did no such thing. It would’ve been strange, if she had.

“Byakuya… is in love with me?” Makoto finally got out. It was redundant, and he already knew the answer, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

“Yes, but, as I already said, that’s just context, for you,” Kyoko said, “What’s more important is figuring out how _you_ feel, and what you’re going to do next.”

“I- But, I-” Kyoko raised a finger, to silence him.

“Makoto,” Kyoko put her hands atop his, acutely aware of the fact that it’d been a long time since she’d trusted someone enough to do that. “How do you feel about Byakuya?”

Makoto’s mouth moved, in reply, but no words came out. He tried again. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

Kyoko smiled at him, reassuring him. “That’s fine,” she said softly, “I already know.”

Then, Makoto was more than a bit confused. Her solid statements calmed his nerves, and he focused on what she’d said. “You do?”

Kyoko nodded. “I just need to ask you a few questions, first, like I said before.”

For a moment, Makoto laughed. “Man, you really are a detective, huh?”

Kyoko smiled, but otherwise didn’t comment. “Makoto, can you please describe Byakuya for me?”

Makoto blinked. “Describe him?”

“Yes, his personality,” Kyoko clarified.

“Well,” Makoto began, “he’s driven, stubborn, intelligent, analytical, proper-” Kyoko cut him off, once more.

“Makoto, be honest, please,” she said, and Makoto knew exactly what she meant.

“He’s full-of-himself, egotistical, antagonistic, rude, self-centered, a bit of a prick, arrogant, and he feels the need to constantly one-up people,” Makoto said, hardly feeling bad, and instead actually a bit relieved.

“So, then, Makoto, if he’s such a jerk, why did you kiss him?” Kyoko asked, her face devoid of any specific emotion.

“I was drunk, and, uh, I guess I maybe just hadn’t kissed anyone in a while?” Makoto offered, uncertain, himself, of the answer.

“Makoto, I forgot to mention that Byakuya told me that the person you’d been drinking with was Hiro, mostly because he also didn’t come in, today, and I asked if there was a correlation,” Kyoko replied, “How come you didn’t kiss him?”

And then, Makoto wasn’t sure what to say. If his previous answer was true, why hadn’t he tried to kiss Hiro?

Makoto really liked Hiro, as a friend. They hung out, all the time, and they worked, together. But, he was nearly grossed out by the idea of kissing him. It was just awkward, and weird, and couldn’t picture it ever happening. With Byakuya, however, the thoughts were different. He felt weird thinking about kissing him, but it was a different weird. And, it was far easier to picture, possibly because they’d actually kissed, before, even if he was drunk and it was for a split second. But, did that mean he liked him?

“Your silence just confirmed my theory. I don’t like to have preconceptions cloud the truth, but this isn’t based on ideas, or guesses,” Kyoko looked him in the eye. “Makoto, you were so worried about Byakuya, when he was in Towa City. Do you remember how relieved you were, when you found out he was okay? While I’m aware of your nature, I’m certain that you wouldn’t have been nearly as distraught if it had been me who was taken,” she paused as she saw Makoto look as if he were about to pipe up, “And, don’t worry, because I don’t take it, personally. I promise you that much.”

Makoto nodded. “So, what do I do, now?”

Kyoko smiled. “You tell him how you feel.”

But then Kyoko suddenly jumped, her hand darting to her pocket, where her phone had just begun to vibrate. “Makoto, I have to get back to work. However, I, sincerely, believe that things will work out, with you and Byakuya.”

And with that, she got up, and walked away, leaving Makoto alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that that was sort of dramatic! I didn't intend to make it so dramatic, but that's just kinda what happened. It's a bit soap opera-y, so sorry about that. Also, I've never written Kyoko before, and I never really read fanfiction about her, or anything, so I just sort of guessed on her character, with what I remembered about her, from the games and anime. Sorry if she's super OOC. I'm still practicing. 
> 
> ***Also, when Kyoko is telling Makoto about Byakuya, she DID NOT tell him the entire encounter between her and Byakuya. She only told him what I wrote in the quotes. That part was, simply, a flashback, for you to enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, so it's been like a year! Sorry for the super super long break, there. School has been busy, and I sorta got out of touch with writing. Please excuse the rustiness! By now, it's been a pretty long time since I've written these characters or played the game. 
> 
> Anyway, I think there's just one or two more chapters! And sorry again for the terrible updating schedule.

_“You tell him how you feel.”_

That’s what she’d said, just those few minutes ago. But, what did it mean?

Of course, if he took it literally, she was telling him to confess his feelings in a romantic sense, but what did that mean in the long run? How did he even feel?

Kyoko had seemed so certain, so firm on her belief that if he talked to Byakuya, things would work out. She saw things clearly, it seemed, and Makoto wished that he could have some of her clarity.

He felt like an outsider in his own life, with everyone knowing something that he didn’t. Were his feelings for Byakuya clearer for everyone else? Was there just something he was missing?

Makoto was swarmed with doubts and concerns and questions. He didn’t think he’d be able to move on unless he did _something_ , but it seemed impossible to even consider some kind of love confession if he hadn’t even found the truth out for himself. If he really was in love with Byakuya, too, he would want it to be romantic or something, right?

He wished, then, that it could’ve been more gradual. Drunk Makoto had seemed to have a mind of his own, but now Makoto wasn’t sure that was true.

As glad as he was that Kyoko had given him her insight, he found himself feeling more confused than ever. Knowing that Byakuya liked him had opened many more options than he ever thought he’d have.

Never did it even cross Makoto’s mind that it would be possible that they could start some kind of relationship. Sure, Byakuya seemingly tolerated him, and if anyone had asked Makoto what their relationship was, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call them friends, but by no means were they buddy-buddy.

And now a _relationship_ was on the table. At least, it seemed like it was?

Makoto trusted Kyoko implicitly. If she said she was certain, then Makoto was, too. But, that didn’t make the idea of the Ultimate Affluent Progeny being in love with him any less fantastical.

Makoto certainly wasn’t a detective, and his hope and optimism had gotten him through much of his life. Yet, he felt that now, more than ever, he needed something solid to cling to. He needed to talk to someone who had spoken to the him who kissed Byakuya. He needed to talk to a friend, someone who may be able to offer an outsider view.

He needed to talk to Hiro.

Walking away from the café, Makoto had the flittering thought that he’d never actually ordered anything, but since nobody had come over to him, he figured that they wouldn’t mind that he’d sat for a bit. He’d just have to eat, later. There was more important business to take care of, first.

Sadly, however, Makoto remembered that the bus would be arriving later than he’d be able to wait. Despite the lack of set time limits, Makoto kinda _really_ didn’t feel like waiting for the bus. But, hey, walking would at least give him a chance to think things over. Not that he hadn’t already had _way_ too much time for that.

Set on walking, Makoto headed over to Hiro’s.

It was in the opposite direction, but luckily, it wouldn’t take him more twenty minutes if he kept up a steady pace. However, Makoto worried briefly that the combination of hunger, dehydration, and hungover-ness would tucker him out long before he reached the apartment building.

Crossing his fingers and letting his hope guide him, Makoto hoped that luck would be on his side. After all, if he had two ultimates, he figured he might as well embrace them.

Taking a deep breath, Makoto decided to stop worrying about the insignifcant details. Makoto couldn’t keep dancing around the issue. He… wasn’t exactly the best dancer, anyway, since all his thoughts led back to a certain someone.

 _Byakuya_.

Makoto started with his drunken thoughts. How had he described him then? He searched his brain to find the word among all the haze and stupidity. It gave him a headache to even try, but soon he was rewarded: “Hot.”

Yes, that’s exactly what he’d thought, looking at him, then, his hair ruffled from a day of work and his eyes as intense as ever. That’s what Makoto remembered. And, really, there was no use in trying to justify it as some kind of drunk vision. Byakuya was tall, poised, stylish, and Makoto was sure even Kyoko would be able to admit how good-looking he was.

Byakuya _was_ hot. That much was certain, and Makoto figured anyone would say the same. However, that didn’t help the slight blush that crept onto his cheeks.

Was that a good sign? Makoto wasn’t sure. But, he had more to think about. _Too_ much.

His thoughts shifted to what Kyoko had asked him, “How do you feel about Byakuya?”

Makoto was sure he’d answered incorrectly, before. He’d _described_ him. Really, he hadn’t talked about how he himself felt at all. Sure, Byakuya was a jerk, and he really was all those things. But, that wasn’t how he saw Byakuya, either.

Makoto wondered if Kyoko did that on purpose. If she wanted him to really assess his feelings right then, she would’ve asked, “How do you feel around Byakuya?”

And, she hadn’t.

Maybe that was what she was trying to get him to do all along: take some time to reflect without anyone else, without words and descriptions. She wanted him to figure it out for himself, to pave his own path and make his own choices.

Makoto smiled. _That’s_ why Kyoko was so certain. She trusted him. She knew that whatever he would determine, he’d make the right choice. Makoto made a mental note to thank her, later.

So, how _did_ he feel around Byakuya?

Really, it was a tough question.

On the surface, he felt scared. Byakuya had such a strong and demanding presence. Just standing next to someone like that made Makoto feel like he was small and insignificant, like anything he said would be wrong when said to someone so _perfect_.

And, he felt angry. He was mad at Byakuya for being so cold, for pushing everyone away, for never even _trying_ to see things from the eyes of someone else. He was angry at him for being so stubborn, angry at him for treating everything like some sort of game or challenge.

But, Makoto knew that he felt those things for a reason. He felt those things because he cared too deeply for his own good.

He was scared because he was afraid to let Byakuya see that he wasn’t always hopeful. He was scared because he feared that in saying the wrong things, Byakuya would close himself off, and he was _so_ scared that Byakuya would end up alone, again. He was scared of disappointing him, of looking like an idiot.

He was angry because he never wanted Byakuya to have to feel like he was the monster people thought he was. He was angry at him for making him feel so confused all the time. He was angry at him for never saying what he really meant, because Makoto wanted to understand him more than anything. He was angry at Byakuya’s family for making him feel like caring about other people was weak. He was angry _for_ Byakuya, because he knew that he had it in him to be better.

Makoto wasn’t stupid. He knew that Byakuya was still a mystery to him. He knew that Byakuya would rather go off alone than try to confront his feelings and his past. He knew that Byakuya wasn’t warm and open.

But, Makoto knew that he deserved to have someone in his corner, and that if someone was just _there_ , and listened, and cared, and actually tried, then maybe Byakuya would finally allow himself to fall apart and start over again.

And he knew that Byakuya was a kid, just like him.

He was raised to be nothing but the leader of a conglomerate. He was raised not as a son, but as only a future business partner. He was raised knowing that he’d never be able to get married, that if he got close to someone he might fall in love, might care, and then he’d ruin the only reason he had any family at all. If he failed, he’d let down generations of Togamis.

And, yet, Byakuya was with Future Foundation, doing his best to protect the innocent civilians and rebuild the world with Makoto of all people by his side.

Makoto knew he cared because he helped him clean his bloody hand, because he trusted Makoto with information and investigations during the killing games, because he let Makoto live with him, because he did his best to get along with the others, because he went to see the captives personally, because he continued to spend time with Makoto despite all his complaining, because of the brief moments where he laughed and smiled and allowed himself to speak without the barriers of status or nobility.  
When he let his guard down, Byakuya was funny and charming and smart and wise and the kind of person Makoto could talk endlessly with.

And when Makoto was around Byakuya, he felt determined. He felt hopeful. He felt strong. He felt happy and light and wished that the times he and Byakuya really talked could last a lifetime.

Byakuya wasn’t perfect, as much as Makoto felt like he was. But, neither was Makoto. He didn’t always make the right call, either. He was sometimes careless and stupid and overly trusting and naive, and sometimes he drank too much and kissed people before asking them if that’s what they wanted.

Makoto knew that he trusted Byakuya. And, he knew that Byakuya trusted him, too, even if he was too guarded to say it.

And, Makoto trusted himself enough to know that if he had the chance to kiss Byakuya again, when they both weren’t drunk, when they were both looking into each other’s eyes, feeling like the only people in the world, Makoto wouldn’t hesitate.

If he’d taken even just a second to think about it, he’d know that he’d do it again and again and again a million times over.

Jeez, maybe he _was_ an idiot.

Thinking it over, now, it was so _obvious_. He was as smitten as Byakuya was, and the for the first time he had the clarity to really see it.

Makoto was so relieved he almost felt like he could cry.

But, looking up, he realized there wasn’t time for that. Hiro’s apartment was right there. Makoto knew that it was on the third floor, so he braced himself for another trek, and made his way to Hiro’s door, desperately hoping that he was home.

Makoto took a breath, and knocked on the old, wooden door.

“Just come on in, dude!” came the voice from inside.

Unsurprised considering how lazy Hiro was, Makoto let himself in, quickly finding his friend draped across the lone couch in the apartment with a blanket and an ice pack on his head like he had some kind of flu.

“Hey! You’re not the pizza guy!” Hiro shouted, before taking on an excitement expression, “Oh, woah, Makoto! You sell pizza now? That’s cool, bro!”

Makoto laughed. “Sorry, but sadly no. I wanted to see if you had my keys. Any idea if they’re here?”

“Pretending to be the pizza guy is not cool, dude,” Hiro shook his head, “But, you left them in the microwave, right? I’m about 63% sure.”

Brushing off the oddly specific percentage, Makoto asked, confused, “The microwave?”

At that, Hiro sat up. “Whaaaaat?! You don’t remember truth or dare? I opened up to you, bro! We had a moment!”

Makoto’s eyes went wide as he reached for his keys. “A moment?”

A million different ideas bounced into his head, and most of them sounded really really awful. Makoto didn’t think he could handle it if he’d kissed _two_ people. After all the thinking he’d done to determine whether or not he liked Byakuya, he was nearly tired of romance altogether. At least drunken romance.

Luckily, Hiro waved his arms in front of him. “Not like in the you-know way, you know? My door only swings one way,” he coughed, “Nah, I mean like brotherly bonding! You gotta remember at least some of it, right?”

Makoto shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Hiro, but I honestly don’t really remember much from last night,” he put a hand to the back of his neck, “Did I… say anything to you? Anything, uh, weird?”

Hiro looked sad, but took a moment to think. “Not really. You went on and on about Byakuya, though, and it got pretty boring after a while.”

“I did? What did I say?” Makoto asked, remembering the other reason why he had come.

Hiro signalled for him to get closer, so Makoto took a step toward him, wondering why it mattered if they were the only people in the room.

“Now, you may not believe this, but…” Hiro paused, looking like he was going to drop some kind of amazing secret, “...I was drunk.”

Makoto blinked. “Huh?”

“Yeah, it may be surprising. But, I actually wasn’t the totally lucid Hiro you see before you,” he said, seriously.

Makoto could only blink, again. “What… does that have to do with what I said about Byakuya?”

“Oh that!” Hiro semi-shouted, “I kinda zoned out, dude.”

Makoto’s heart sunk a little. There went his plan of finding out information from an outsider perspective. “Ah, well, that’s alright, Hiro. Thanks for helping me find my keys.”

Hiro smiled at him, and then looked like he remembered something important, “Oh, wait, that’s right! You promised I’d be the best man at you and Byakuya’s wedding! You better not go back on your word, dude.”

And then Makoto practically choked.

Of all the things that he suspected that he could’ve said about Byakuya, that was _not_ one of them. Makoto wouldn’t have even been surprised if he’d said something less than decent, but marriage was quite a commitment for a drunk teenager to make.

“Woah, are you alright?” Hiro put his ice pack to Makoto’s head instead, “You look like you need this more than I do, man. You look _bad_.”

Makoto smiled, and pushed the ice lightly aside. “I’m fine–I promise. I’m just a little surprised I was so forward, though I guess I shouldn’t be, considering what happened last night.”

Hiro’s eyes widened. “No way! You proposed last night? I was waiting for you to say something, dude!”

Makoto waved his hands in front of him. “Ah! No! I mean I- I just, um, kissed him is all.”

Hiro seemed to deflate a bit. “That’s boring, man. I thought you kissed him like super long ago.”

“Huh?” Makoto got out.

Cocking his head, Hiro replied, “Well, you guys moved in together, so I assumed you guys were a thing and just, you know, kept stuff private.”

Makoto took a moment to think about what Hiro said. It did make sense, and Makoto wondered why he never questioned what they looked like to other people. After all, Makoto was one of the only people who tolerated Byakuya, and they did spend a lot of time together because of work and their living arrangements.

That left him with one question: “Was it really that obvious that I liked Byakuya?”

“I mean, yeah, for sure!” Hiro said, nonchalantly.

Makoto smiled, taking everything in. “Thanks, Hiro,” he paused, “I think you’ll make a great best man.”

Hiro looked like he was gonna cry, and pulled Makoto into a hug, “Aw, thanks, dude!”

Makoto pat him lightly on the back, and then waved goodbye, putting his keys into his pocket. And when he stepped out the door, he felt more certain than ever.


End file.
